Poisonous Little Petal
by Taintless
Summary: Ginny Weasley. There was something wrong with her. She’d had sex with Seamus Finnegan tonight. She was only fifteen, and so tainted. Also features Malfoy.


Ginny had never felt so flushed in her life.

She walked through the hallway, without being really sure where she was going. Her heart thudded dully in her chest, her cheeks were flushed, she'd been so stupid…

There was noise from around the corner. Ginny couldn't be seen, not in the state she was in. She backed up. There was no where to hide. There – a Knight! She pressed herself up against it, squeezed her eyes shut and prayed they wouldn't see her.

It was Harry, Ron and Hermione. Of course it was. She wondered what they were up to. Probably on another mission to say the world. She tried to hear their conversation but it seemed to be illogical. They were all giggling, there conversation seemed to have no point except that they were mess-fighting. Hermione was making fun of Ron's red ears.

They walked straight past her. Only when she was sure she was out of sight did Ginny open her eyes and look at them.

Harry was messingly scuffling with Ron, who casually had one arm draped around Hermione's shoulder. She was beaming. They weren't often so intimate, were they?

When would those two, Hermione and Ron, just realised that they fancied each other?

The three all looked so happy.

The trio, right? Every night, they went on their own little missions. Down to get a late-night snack from the kitchens, or go visit Hagrid and help Grawp learn more English, or go research some vitally important subject in the library's restricted section. She sighed. When would they willingly invite her? When would they ever realise that she didn't hang around in the Common Room on her own for her own health?

It was so easy for them. It didn't matter if you had two best friends with you the whole time. You didn't have to constantly prove yourself to people. You didn't have to keep people interested. You didn't have to tell little lies to be left in.

The boyfriends had started in her fourth year. She'd thought it would be easy now – boys would like her. Except they seemed to tire of her very easily. At first, that had been fine but, soon, she'd become addicted to being with someone and, when she wasn't with someone, she felt like there was something wrong with her.

There was something wrong with her.

She'd had sex with Seamus Finnegan tonight.

She was only fifteen, and so tainted.

Hermione had only kissed one boy. She was so clean. She didn't have the sins Ginny did on her conscience. Hermione was pretty too, natural. Happy.

Ginny was covered in her Wizarding makeup. She could feel it on her face now, a hot blanket. It just added to the layer of filth that she felt covered her. It hadn't been her first time having sex with a boy, and it wouldn't be her last.

And, yes, maybe it did comfort her for a moment. The need Seamus had had for her at that moment. He'd wanted her, needed her. That moment of pure energy made her closer to him than she'd ever been to anyone.

But there was always an afterwards.

She was dirty now. She always had been. Ever since she'd given her mind, body and soul to Tom when she'd been eleven years old. Sometimes she wondered whether he'd ever given them back. She remembered now, the touch of his hand on her skin, his cold whisper in her ear, the fear that had exploded in her chest, although she wasn't quite sure what he was doing…

She'd blocked out her memories of Tom for so long. But not anymore. Now she thought of them for hours. They were the only thing that reminded her that she _was_ different. She _was_ special. She wasn't just a common girl, a girl who gave it all away if a boy gave her a little bit of attention. She was more than that, Tom had _chosen_ her.

She was his little poisonous petal.

He'd told her that once. Whispered it in her ears as hesucked away her goodness.

The tears didn't come. She hadn't cried in so long now. It was only when she cried that she couldn't fool herself that she was alright, she was okay, she'd be fine in just a little while, things wouldn't always be the same…

Malfoy came up behind her now, stepping out from the shadows that he lived in. He was smirking. She had known he would come. He always picked her weakest moments to pry up on her. He knew exactly when he'd get what he wanted.

He turned her by her shoulders. She let him. He kissed her. She let him. He led her into a nearby empty classroom. She let him.

Her heart didn't even beat. There was silence all around her. Even with him there touching her, she felt alone. Even when he was in her, she felt nothing. But she was glad he needed her. He didn't need Hermione and any pure, good girl. He needed Ginny, just the way she was.

Sometimes, when he was looking down at her with that expression, she could see Tom.

Sometimes, she saw Harry.

Sometimes, she saw herself.

He was no worse than her.

Once finished, they'd lie there together, quietly. He didn't hold her, didn't comfort her in any way, even as the tears dripped down her face, despite the fight that she was struggling through, shouting at herself silently not be so weak…

He had no feelings for her. She'd knew that, ever since the first time. She was his dirty little secret. He would never get to know her or care about her. If Lord Voldemort killed her tomorrow, it would have no effect on him.

Later, he'd leave her to the loneliness. She sometimes went back to the common room and sometimes she stayed in the empty classroom. She sat there then, in the middle of the empty desks, looking around her. Darkness flooded in the windows. There was no moon or stars out tonight. There never was, anymore.

She was who she was. She couldn't be good. She couldn't what they all wanted her to be. She wasn't sweet. She wasn't pretty. She wasn't a virgin. She was Ginny Weasley.

She was no better than Pansy Parkinson.

She knew it.

Seamus will have told everyone by morning and everyone will have started to whisper, whisper, _whisper_ again…

But Ginny knew it was better than no attention.

How could she ever change?

How could she wipe off all the makeup and look at herself again?

She wasn't a hero. She wasn't part of the trio.

She just wasn't strong enough.


End file.
